Category Archives: Writing

Writer’s block, struggles, inspiration, letting it all out with a pen, short stories, excerpts

past

Posted on December 26, 2012 | 2 Comments

Do you ever look at something you wrote a while back and feel embarrassed and delete it right away? I just went through all my posts here and deleted almost half. It just made me feel uncomfortable. Sometimes I go through my pictures and delete. I go through facebook and delete. When I was in high school I burned all my journals from age five on. I don’t know if that’s a form of self suppression or only normal to cringe a bit? I believe I am very head-on with my past. I deal with it, I work on it, I allow whatever feelings to come up.. but maybe it is still a habit for me to attempt to bury my pasts?

I think a part of me is too afraid to share my writings in a book because later on I won’t be able to erase it..

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creative

Posted on October 5, 2012 | 1 Comment

 

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love’s moonlight

Posted on July 31, 2012 | Leave a comment

[acrylic - nikki star]

“All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.”

 

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beast

Posted on July 26, 2012 | 3 Comments

“A woman is a beast. She is as lovely as she is repulsive. She is one part demon and one part goddess, one part slave and one part muse, one part child and one part mother. These contradictions are what make a woman so intoxicating.” -Unknown

 

Still am working on first draft of novel but conceived a new idea for another book.. will be sultry and full of erotic drawings.. Lewd. That’s a fun word.

Hmm.. I’m curious to know what you think is the sexiest part of a woman. The dive at the waist, a little peek of the wet inner mouth, the way her hair curls around her ear… ?

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Mallorca, Spain

Posted on July 19, 2012 | Leave a comment

The key to the house. I love keys like this! I wish all of mine were like this.

- Mallorca, Spain; 18:30

Went to the beach today and realized something… in amidst to my love affair of the beaches in South America, having been to a few beaches in Europe now, I much prefer the latter… people leave you alone more or less. In most of South America, you’re lucky if you can walk in silence for two minutes (the annoying Ssss, ssss, I do not miss).

Catching up on my reading and have finished Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go which is a definite must-read. The story gave me a strange, heavy feeling; full and empty at the same time. It’s really good. Started John Steinbeck’s To A God Unknown and am hooked already. The way he writes is so… swift. I never get bored or start drifting off the page (I experience this habitually with other books and have to force myself to stay on the page) as he just carries the story so well. I read the Introduction in the beginning and found it interesting. This book was the hardest he had labored and took him 5 years to write. I can’t imagine writing 5 days a week (which is what he did) for 5 years and receiving one rejection after another; he had to rewrite the book many times. He never considered himself one of the greats. I suppose all writers experience insecurity and fury, no matter how good they are..

The laboring is what makes one great, I guess. But then, that scares me.

 

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a concept misunderstood

Posted on July 7, 2012 | 2 Comments

charcoal pencils

Solitude seems to be a misjudged notion, at times a concept misinterpreted, ignored, shunned. I get in spaces which demand me of my own silence and revery (more frequently than others, it seems — though possibly a faulty assumption). Surrounded by too much “stuff” — people, events, noises, time — my mind becomes weary and I resort inwards like a doughy hermit to its shell. It doesn’t take one long to deem, Introvert, Introvert; the green and yellow bulbs flashing and flickering away.
I used to, in my younger years, think it was a characteristic of the “odd,” the loners, the strange ones but only in result of the satisfaction of others (it takes awhile to get to the point where you can give one big “Fuck it” to what others think, doesn’t it?). Even to this day, I get curious comments such as “Why are you traveling by yourself?” “A girl like you shouldn’t be sitting here alone.” Obviously they mean no harm or judgement, though I still wonder why this is.
I relish the time I do have alone — it is the only time I have to center myself, to feel the warmth of the universe in my own veins, to remember such things I couldn’t otherwise. And I am fortunate to have people around me who understand, who give me those silent parenthesis of infinity. So, now I am reminded to center myself when I can and solemnly breathe in.. out.. in.. out..

 

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my muse

Posted on June 19, 2012 | 1 Comment

I just want to write write write and draw draw draw until my fingers bleed, until my soul is no longer starved and the blood drips into the empty crevices of my imagined existence. And I think I will do so.

She is my muse… whoever she is, she is and will always be who I write for.

 

I have been drawing more because I haven’t been able to write lately. I am loving the freedom of creating beautiful images on paper.

 

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Thread by thread

Posted on June 10, 2012 | 2 Comments

“You’re really just an ongoing set of events: boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, one after the other. The awareness is keeping up with those events, seeing your life unfolding as it is, not your ideas of it, not your pictures of it. See what I mean?” -Charlotte Joko Beck

charcoal pencils

oil and acrylic

You are near me, sitting next to me, the threads of your shirt brushing against my thigh. Thread by thread, they touch me and one by one I am farther away, confronted by added silence, our unspoken words stinging my awaiting ears. I wish to pull away from you forever, this uncertainty more painful than the sure decision of a wound but this knot that holds me to you carries the fabric of my being, my joy, my desire. Unbeknownst to even yourself, your ties are tangling, your curbed discontentment growing, pulling you away in a million directions but mine and I cannot continue holding on.

…your threads tugging on my beating heart.
(excerpt from my book.)

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my heart’s in Greece

Posted on May 10, 2012 | 2 Comments

[Santorini]

I have never seen a place more beautiful than here. I can’t believe people get to live here. Perhaps one day…

I’m in Greece alone, with no plans to meet with anyone and I have been writing away (finally got my inspiration back!). Maybe it’s the beautiful scenery and sun here putting me in a more-than-positive mood but I have a feeling I may finish my first draft here. I feel very close to it.

Something about this place feels so familiar…

(I finished a book today called Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coehlo. It is quite possibly the most inspiring, beautiful, life-changing book I have ever read. The moment I turned the last page, my life felt different. It is a must-read. It is all about love and sex and all those beautiful things.)

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When we created the world

Posted on April 18, 2012 | 2 Comments

The most beautiful poem I have ever read.

 

It was lonely being the only One

And so I made Two.

And then there was You.

You were so beautiful with your eyes of innocence

but I Loved you from afar and yet so very near

and I Loved you in ways you could not comprehend.

You didn’t know I was watching through the eyes of

every person you met,

Nor could you hear my voice in the Wind.

You thought that the Earth was just dirt and rocks,

You didn’t realize it was my body.

When you slept, we would meet in your Heart

And make Love with our Spirits as One.

We would birth new worlds with such Passion.

But when you were awake, you remembered nothing.

You thought it was just another Dream.

It was just another day alone.

But in your Heart I await You, my Love, forever.

For the Truth of our Love and Oneness will always be.

Our Love is the Matrix of All That Is.

Remember, Sweet One,

In your Heart I will always await thee

In the place that is small.

—Drunvalo Melchizedek

 

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